This Is the Accepted Manuscript of Katharine Massam, “Cloister and Community” in a Not So
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1 This is the accepted manuscript of Katharine Massam, “Cloister and Community” in A Not So Unexciting Life: Essays in Honor of Michael Casey OCSO ed. Carmel Posa, Cistercian Studies 269, Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 2017. Cloister and Community Katharine Massam Concepts of place have a resonant history within monasticism. Touchstones of monastic life often have a spatial dimension: stability and pilgrimage, boundaries and hospitality, even the balance of solitude and corporate life. Paying attention to the way monasticism is lived, in and across spaces, enlivens our understanding of the values that inform it. As Philip Sheldrake has suggested for monasteries in general, the cloister in particular is what Foucault might have called a heterotopia: one real location that represents several different sites at once.1 Balanced by controlled entry between isolation and accessibility, a heterotopia throws other locations into relief and challenges definitions of normal. Foucault had in mind museums, libraries and Japanese gardens representing a cosmos within themselves, but for the medieval world the cloister also stood at the heart of the monastic commitment, and on at least one reading, was that heart. This essay outlines the development of the medieval cloister as an architectural form, for nuns as well as monks. Acknowledging the “spatial turn” in the humanities more broadly, I 1 Michel Foucault, “Of Other Spaces” (1967) cited in Philip Sheldrake, “The Practice of Place: Monasteries and Utopia,” ABR 53 (2002): 10, n.18. 2 explore the “cloister” as part of the paradox in Christianity where any particular location is potentially both a place of encounter with God and a liminal boundary between “here” and the “beyond” of discipleship.2 In tracing concerns to set aside the space and also to protect and control it, I argue that the cloister was not only a real and specific location, but also a space that carried allusions beyond itself. The cloister reflected choices within the monastery and also became a resource for those choices and a value in monastic life. The monastic cloister echoed with meaning in the Middle Ages. It continues to resound with significance today, not only in religious communities that maintain a physical cloister but also beyond them. As political responses to the refugee crisis of the twenty first century falter and churches in Australia revive the ancient pledge of “sanctuary” in the face of threat,3 the cloister remains potent as both a haven and a source of faithful discipleship. Place, Space and Values As the British theologian Timothy Gorringe observes that, “to be human is to be placed.”4 Bodies take up space, being a person involves “being there”,5 and building shelter is an intensely human activity. For the Roman architect and engineer Vitruvius (d. 15CE), writing in the first century BCE, humanity became itself by building, and the geometry of the human body became the geometry of classical architecture, re-discovered by Leonardo da Vinci (1452-1519) in the 2 Key resources include Philip Sheldrake, Spaces for the Sacred: Place, Memory and Identity (Baltimore, ML: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2001); Belden Lane, Landscapes of the Sacred: geography and narrative in American spirituality (New York: Paulist Press, 1998); Yi-Fu Tuan, Space and Place: The Perspective of Experience (Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota Press, 1977). 3 Justin Glynn, “Offers of sanctuary brighten Australia’s refugee dark age,” Eureka Street vol. 26 (2), http://www.eurekastreet.com.au/article.aspx?aeid=45954#.V0Y2W2Y3JFU Accessed 25 May 2016; Peter Catt, “Why I Offered Sanctuary to Asylum Seekers,” The Melbourne Anglican, 26 May 2016. http://tma.melbourneanglican.org.au/opinion/sanctuary-peter-catt-230316 Accessed 25 May 2016. 4 Timothy J. Gorringe, A Theology of the Built Environment: Justice, Empowerment, Redemption (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002), 1. 5 Phillip Sheldrake, Spaces for the Sacred: place, memory and identity (Baltimore MY: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 2001), 7, draws on Martin Heideggar to elaborate this. See Heideggar, “An Ontological Consideration of Place”, The Question of Being (New York: Twayne Publishers, 1958), 26. 3 Italian Renaissance and remembered now by proponents of human-scale “vernacular” town planning in Scandinavia and elsewhere.6 When we build shelters, we build symbols. “Bodies themselves generate spaces” argued Henri Lefebvre in 1991.7 His path-breaking work on The Production of Space warned against overuse of the term “space” by linguistic philosophers who gave too little attention to the human decisions that create both intellectual and physical realities. His firm reminder of the need to bridge mental and material space, not least by attention to everyday life, pointed to market halls, porticos, sportsgrounds, cemeteries, houses and basilicas as well as cloisters as places “produced by and for” the “ritualised and codified gestures” of human bodies.8 The monastic cloister shared a monastic language with the monks; it produced and was produced by a set of ritualized gestures (of walking, reading, praying, working).9 Lefebvre sees it as “a grand creation” in which signs and symbols give physical expression to a worldview, “mooring a mental space… to the earth”10 and sustaining practices of that flow from that mental space. Here, then is a space in which a life balanced between the contemplation of the self in its finiteness and that of a transcendent infinity may experience a happiness composed of quietude and a fully accepted lack of fulfilment. As a space for contemplatives, a place of promenade and assembly, the cloister connects a finite and determinate locality 6 Marcus Vitruvius Pollio. The Ten Books of Architecture, trans. Morris Morgan (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1914), 38 (2.II.i); on da Vinci see M. J. Ostwald and John R. Moore, Disjecta Membra: The Architect, the Serial Killer, his Victim and her Medical Examiner (Sydney: Arcadia Press, 1998); on contemporary theology and architecture Seppo Kjellberg, Urban Eco-theology (Utrecht: International Books, 2000), 26; all cited Gorringe, Built Environment, 1-11 who promotes “vernacular” architecture as the ethical way forward. 7 Henri Lefebvre, The Production of Space, trans. Donald Nicholson-Smith (Oxford: Blackwell, 1991), 216. 8 Lefebvre, The Production of Space, 3-7 accuses Foucault, Chomsky, J. M. Rey, Kristeva, Derrida, and Barthes of disregarding the gap between mental and physical or social space. 9 Lefebvre, Production of Space, 216-17. 10 Ibid., 217. 4 – socially particularized but not unduly restricted as to use, albeit definitely controlled by an order or rule – to a theology of the infinite. Columns, capitals, sculptures – these are semantic differentials which mark off the route followed (and laid down) by the steps of the monks during their time of (contemplative) recreation.11 It is a simple enough point, that the environment shapes and reflects meaning, but the code is not an end in itself, rather “it reproduces itself within those who use the space in question, within their lived experience.”12 Mircea Eliade’s concept of a sacred location as an axis mundi, a metaphorical centre of the world separated from secular surrounds but linking earth to heaven, opened up discussion of place as a dynamic and a variable in spiritual encounter. With Edith and Victor Turner, who drew on the axis mundi to explore what they called the communitas of individuals formed by their experience of a site or a pilgrimage to it, Eliade implied such sites were both universal and carried a single meaning.13 As social geographers and cultural historians as well as theologians have engaged with the experience of space and place, the many interpretations of a location and the idea of single readings has been overtaken by attention to the multiple meanings potentially embedded in a single site, and the political contest that validates some readings over others.14 Place is multi-dimensional, and Christian theology can explore it fruitfully. Traditionally Christian thinkers have paid more attention to time in relation to God than to place, but both are similarly complex. The distinction between the regular tick of chronos and 11 Ibid., 217. 12 Ibid., 137. 13 Mircea Eliade, The Sacred and the Profane (New York: Harcourt Brace, 1959); Victor Turner and Edith Turner, Image and Pilgrimage in Christian Culture: anthropological perspectives (Oxford: Blackwell, 1978). See also the discussion in Sheldrake, Spaces, 5. 14 Sheldrake, Spaces, 6 n.13. 5 the elastic experience of kairos as moments of revelation unfold, is relatively well-known. There is a parallel distinction to be made in relation to concepts of place captured in the Greek terms topos and khora. On the one hand there is the map, the topography of location, and on the other there is the site of encounter, the “interval” between the locations or the notes on a musical score.15 For Christians attention to the particularity of the experience of a single place of revelation is in paradoxical tension with the reality of God who cannot be confined to local sites. There is both place, the experience of being on “holy ground”, and placelessness, of moving towards what is to come. There is both the Incarnation and the empty tomb of Jesus Christ who has gone ahead to Galilee. Christianity holds that the particular is the doorway to the universal, the beyond. The unique “this-ness” of God’s creation calls Christian disciples to live into the reality where